


Arrival

by Laureiel (CunningMnemosyne)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Chaos, Crack Fic, Gen, Slight Nudity, don't take this seriously, like really: Dont, this is two years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CunningMnemosyne/pseuds/Laureiel
Summary: Elrond just heard NEWS, bad NEWS. Glorfindel's hair is stuck, Erestor wanted some attention and Celeborn is also doing stuff. Thranduil is stirring everything up of course. There are many things happening in Rivendell, and whether our elves will come out safe and sound is dubious. This should not, under any circumstances be taken seriously!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, it has been sooo long since I've posted anything, but today I decided to post my stories on A03 as well (they are already on fanfiction.net). I wrote this story almost 2 years ago, and hopefully this will inspire me to start writing LOTR again.  
> For this story, I wanted to experiment a bit with writing style, genre and characters, so to start off I thought of writing a nice crack fic. (Sorry, I'm not sorry). Fun fact: when I made an account (on fanfiction) I swore that I would never write a crack fic because of my terrible sense of humour, but here I am… (So please no flames). Seeing that this is a crack fic, this should not in any matter be taken serious, seriously do not try.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome. This fic was not beta'd so all mistakes are mine, unlike the characters and location that are all property of Tolkien. (wish they were mine though..)  
> Enjoy the read!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond just heard NEWS, bad NEWS. Glorfindel's hair is stuck, Erestor wanted some attention and Celeborn is also doing stuff. Thranduil is stirring everything up of course. There are many things happening in Rivendell, and whether our elves will come out safe and sound is dubious. This should not, under any circumstances be taken seriously!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, it has been sooo long since I've posted anything, but today I decided to post my stories on A03 as well (they are already on fanfiction.net). I wrote this story almost 2 years ago, and hopefully this will inspire me to start writing LOTR again.   
> For this story, I wanted to experiment a bit with writing style, genre and characters, so to start off I thought of writing a nice crack fic. (Sorry, I'm not sorry). Fun fact: when I made an account (on fanfiction) I swore that I would never write a crack fic because of my terrible sense of humour, but here I am… (So please no flames). Seeing that this is a crack fic, this should not in any matter be taken serious, seriously do not try.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome. This fic was not beta'd so all mistakes are mine, unlike the characters and location that are all property of Tolkien. (wish they were mine though..)  
> Enjoy the read!

**Chapter 1**

 

It was an idealistic morning in Rivendell, the waterfalls roared nearby, the sun was shining brightly and eleven elven voices were raised in song. Lindir's idea of a joke had a lot to do with alliteration, apparently. He had named his background singers the eleven elves, how sad. The other choices included 'Lord Lindir's lot', 'Musical Magicians' and 'Sophisticated Singers'. Elrond himself had voted for 'Sophisticated Singers', thinking that it would go well with the ambiance he was trying to create as Rivendell, the Capital of Knowledge and Lore. Glorfindel, however, had coaxed his clique (young maidens and starry-eyed warriors) to vote for the Eleven Elves, seems that he was still quite sentimental feelings about the eleven houses of Gondolin.

Erestor had argued that there were in fact twelve houses, to which Glorfindel had replied that the guardians of king Tuor did not count as a house. Erestor did not agree, but arguing with Glorfindel was like trying to stop an orc's sword swinging at you by asking it friendly to  _please stop_ , which is of course why no one would ever be that stupid. Except for his sons, but even Elrond admitted that they were a bit strange, and they  _had_  finally learned the lesson that negotiating with orcs results in pain, injuries and worst of all, an irritated Glorfindel. On the other hand, who could have blamed them, Celebrian had just read the famous children's book of 'how the little dirty orc became a good elfling.' Written by the most foolish of elven scribes, this book was infamous and usually ended up in little elflings trying to look for orcs. Why the book was still in the library was a mystery, as Elrond had tried to throw it away numerous time, but it had always found its way back to the shelves.

Lord Elrond was walking around the gardens, after having to fend of Erestor, his sons, his advisors, Erestor, his guards, Erestor, three human visitors and his librarian (Erestor). He had apparently, not succeeded in advoiding Glorfindel, who was standing right next to him, with an annoying smile around his lips.

'No, I am not listening. Stop smirking! It is not happening!'

Glorfindel smirked again. His golden hair glimmered in the sun, and his radiance made young maidens (and a few not-so-you warriors) swoon. Literally. It was starting to get annoying to pick all these elves and carry them back to their respected beds. Glorfindel claimed that he did not mind, but he too admitted that it was nice to talk to people that were actually conscious and aware of what they were doing. Elrond had never been affected by his friend in that way. He had already fallen for Celebrian when Glorfindel came back from Valinor. Erestor, too, kept his feet firmly placed upon the ground, but he was generally considered to be unflappable.

Elrond always admired unflappability, but the news he just got should be enough to shake even Erestor to his core.

'Elrond, I am very afraid that it  _is_ happening. Denial is not a good state of mind to be in.' Glorfindel did not look afraid at all, he was  _amused_  and Elrond knew why. That thrice-damned Balrog-Slayer, was silently laughing at him.

'Shut up. I am not listening to you, I AM NOT LISTENING.' To emphasize his point, Elrond put his fingers in his ears. Hand gestures, he found, were always nice to underline strong statements. A well placed swoop of the arm here, a pointing finger there and the point came across at a neck-breaking speed and hit home harder than a battling ram. One had to be careful, however, in what vicinity the others stood, if there happened to be an advisor close by, when someone happened to be speaking in a court, which happened to be the court of Gil-Galad. Said gesturer should be very careful with wide sweeps of the arms, otherwise the speaker could possible hit an advisor in the nose and cause this unfortunate elf a lot of grief, himself a high medical bill and the displeasure of the king. Not that this had ever happened to Elrond of course.

Glorfindel laughed gaily, forced Elrond's fingers out of his ears and screamed in them, just for good measure. 'THRANDUIL IS COMING!'

After Elrond had recovered, and that is quite a feat. After all, Glorfindel was used to scream commands in the heat of a battle. As Lindir had put it, Glorfindel had an amazing capability of making himself heard to even the deaf.

Elrond groaned, it made no sense denying it now, Thranduil had come, completely unexpected, to the valley and was less than two hours away from arriving. Why the old fool had not announced his intentions, say a year before coming here, he would probably never know. The problem was, that there already was another visitor, namely Celeborn, and those two added together meant complete chaos. He remembered the last white council meeting; where Thranduil and Celeborn had found his hidden stack of Dorwinion and had- NO! He would not think about what had happened then. On top of the disarray he had to solve, Celebrian had become really angry with him, after all, she too liked Dorwinion and he had kept it hidden.

'I don't suppose that Celeborn suddenly felt the urge to leave our valley, do you?' he sighed, accepting his fate.

'Not a chance Elrond! I however, have  _very_ important business to sort out, and can therefore not be of any assistance, unfortunately.'

Quick as a snake Elrond's hand shot out and grabbed Glorfindel by the golden locks that were his namesake. 'You,  _old friend_ , are going nowhere. If this is going to happen, we will withstand it together, and I will hereby appoint you to Chief of the Guests. You will make sure that Celeborn and Thranduil have  _no_  knowledge of each other's presence. You will make sure that my sons have  _no_  knowledge of the fact that Celeborn and Thranduil should never, NEVER again, meet. Above all, you will make sure that this stay will go by quietly and that Celeborn leaves as soon as possible. Did I make myself clear?!'

'But... Elrond! Ehm, My lord. My most esteemed friend. My most gracious, ever merciful liege… That is quite frankly impossible. I therefore humbl-'

I DON'T CARE WHETHER IT IS IMPOSSIBLE OR NOT- I WILL NOT- I WILL NOT HAVE A REPETITION OF WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME, DO YOU HEAR ME GLORFINDEL!' Elrond had become red, a very dangerous condition, especially for a peredhil his age. Glorfindel looked on worriedly, after all, his friend did not scream very often, and well, if it did happened, high blood-pressure would quickly fell the good lord.

And indeed. The Lord went down, just like a maid when he, Glorfindel the Great, smiled at her. Glorfindel the Great had unfortunately forgotten that said swooning elf-lord still had his hair in a tightly clenched fist and therefore followed his friend to the grassy grounds of Imladris.  _I should have shaved my head after that stupid Balrog!_ With a clenched face he tried to pry Elrond's hand from his hair but all his struggles were for naught, he was helplessly caught. With a heavy sigh he lifted Elrond from the ground, and swung him over his shoulder, making sure that the fist that held his hair was close enough to his head for comfort. Just to be sure that Elrond was  _really_  out and not just faking it, he bounced up and down for a few times, screaming 'Wakey! Wakey!' in Elrond's ear.

Since that didn't do the trick he decided that he could better bring Elrond to the healing wing and then, he should start attending to the arrival of Thranduil. The desire to sneak away was high, but he knew that whatever would happen with Thranduil around, Elrond would make sure that he would suffer worse if he disappeared. There were a few strange looks as he walked down to the healing halls, and when he finally sat in the waiting room. He thought that perhaps he should consider one of the offered healing courses. 'How to Help Hapless Humans' did sound interesting but perhaps 'Extinguished Elves: The Guide, What to Do when Elves don't Get Up Again' was more relevant for an elf in his situation. The waiting room was not really crowded. Still, healers, it seemed, could not work on a tight schedule to save their own life. He grabbed a few magazines ('Cirdan's Advice for Beard- Braiding' and 'Lembas; good Way-bread or Mordor's Delight?') and disposed Elrond on his lap, because his hair otherwise would be ripped off.

After waiting for half an hour he was let in by an apprentice, who fell down when he smiled at her. Normally he would have caught her, but his arms were already full of half-elf. After finding a new healer, an old, married, woman. She told him that it would be better for Elrond to wake up on his own, and that she couldn't help him with his hair. Muttering Glorfindel heaved Elrond back up his shoulder and walked to Elrond's chambers. A light flutter of panic was in the pits of his stomach. He had just wasted 30 minutes and had still not started with the preparations. Calling the old fateful steward (and librarian) Erestor to Elrond's study, he started searching the desk for Elrond's 'Guide to Emergencies, How to Deal with Irate Kings, Broken Noses and other Useful Tips'. Written by the esteemed lord himself.

Erestor arrived and after he too had been informed of the Elven King, they started working on the situation. Elrond's handwriting, however, was not really something to be proud of and Glorfindel did not understand why the lord had not used a scribe. 'It says here that we should make a banner? Look, he even sketched one: Liver smell: the Capstone of Losing no Wretch.'

'Hmm, particular choice of words, but if the lord wants it.' Erestor murmured. 'I have sent the twins to Celeborn's rooms, by the way, and hinted that they should do something to his hair. That should keep the vain bastard in his rooms for at least a week. And, no, they have no idea at all that Thranduil is coming.'

'Good job! Shall we meet again in half an hour? I- and Elrond here- will find the Eleven Elves and ask for a few woodland jigs for this evening. I will also go to the kitchen and ask them to prepare a feast. Can you go fix the banner and make sure that Celeborn really does stay in his rooms? Oh, hide the wine as well! We do not want a repeat from the last white council.' Both councillors shuddered and went their own way.

The minutes seemed to pass by and before everyone knew it, they were standing outside the gates, waiting for the king. Glorfindel still had Elrond draped around his shoulder, as a sort luxurious cloak, but he stood stiff and watched the proceedings. Judging from the giggles of the twins and the roar of embarrassment he had heard earlier, Erestor's plan had worked, which was a relief. The banner also looked nice, although the script was a bit weird, but then again, Elrond  _was_  half human, and Glorfindel had never really understood humans. Cautiously he allowed some optimism, perhaps things would not go so bad after all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked the story and please review :) or leave kudos!  
> Love, Laureiel


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has arrived... will Glorfindel and Erestor be able to avoid total chaos?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter. I still don't own any of these guys. This chapter is also not checked by a beta, so all the faults are my own, enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

Glorfindel should have known better then to think that everything would be alright, he really should have! Nothing would go 'alright' as soon as one thought that cursed thought. Had he not had that exact same thought right before the Balrog had dragged him over the edge by his hair? Had he not thought that right before the twins dumped a bucket of eggs on his head? Had he not thought that right before some novice warriors has used his behind as target for archery? Had he not thought that right before the last white council meeting?

It started with Thranduil's chosen vehicle: instead of taking a horse, like any sane elf would've done, he had to take an elk, an elk with antlers so big that it would be impossible to fit into the stables. Worse than that: he had taken his sons with him! Snuffles, his eldest currently went through the dreaded Second Elven puberty. This was a phenomenon unique for immortals and usually occurred between the first and second century, when the body was already mature but the mind was still growing. No elf wanted to be reminded of that particular period in their lives, and Glorfindel was no exception. He and Ecthelion had started the ERPGA (Equal Right for Pigs in Gondolin Association). For a decennium, they had tried to collect signature to give pigs all the rights that the elves had, and they had especially focused on voting rights. Now that he looked back it did seem strange; first of all, Gondolin was a monarchy, so the pigs' lives would not have changed drastically with this action and secondly, there were only three pigs in the whole of Gondolin, so their votes wouldn't have mattered anyways.

Snuffles' hair, which would normally come to his waist, stood up straight and the points were painted in neon colours. His clothes were blinding to the eye and his colour-combinations were just terrible. Legolas, Thranduil's youngest, also seemed to think that, as he looked with disgust at the clothes his brother wore. Glorfindel thought that Thranduil's wife had been smart enough to name her second son, after Thranduil had called the first Snuffles, like his favourite rabbit when he was just a little child.

Legolas himself was already surrounded by speed-painters, since he was somewhat of a celebrity. He had been the head model of MFW (Mirkwood Fashion Week) and was a regular on the cover page of 'Lothlorien's Looks'. He was already busily talking to all his fans when Glorfindel approached.

'O my Valaaar, I was like: this is sooo awwsome,' nodding to one of the interviewers, Legolas started to describe his boots. 'O yes, these are the original Orc-Runner Mirkwood Edition Boots, evade the orcs while looking good! Only 19 gold pieces and in the stores right now!'

Thranduil looked majestic, of course. He had two bottles of wine in each hand he was already dominating the Eleven Elves in their woodland jigs, adding some words that did not really seem appropriate. When he saw Glorfindel approaching he held up his hands in greeting, before dismounting in one fluid movement and embracing the Balrog-Slayer. 'Long time no see! Thranduil is in da house! Elvenking and party-animal extraordinaire.'

Freeing himself from the stifling embrace, Glorfindel bowed awkwardly and stepped back. 'I welcome you on behalf of Imladris and its lord, Elrond here.'

'O my Valaaar, that is sooo funny!' Legolas said, as he spotted Elrond hanging over Glorfindel's shoulder. 'Very daring, darling. Yet a bit over the top, I would've gone with just a feather Boa.'

Ignoring Legolas for a moment, the Balrog-Slayer looked around, trying to count the elves Thranduil had taken with him. If one didn't count the king, Snuffles and Legolas, there were twenty warriors, three tailors, two speed painters, one fashion designer, five healers, nine wine makers, seven ale-makers and one scribe. He could house the Warriors in the barracks, but the rest would be a lot more difficult. Just then he saw Erestor standing a few meters away and hastily waved him over. 'Erestor here will lead you all to the rooms, the Warriors can follow me.'

He quickly left, hearing Legolas' voice drowning on about where his tailors and fashion designers should be housed, Erestor did not look particularly pleased with him.

* * *

 

Celeborn was mad, angry, outraged and annoyed. He had just been having a really nice bath, experimenting with the different soaps Imladris offered (he liked the lavender one, but peach was a close second), and reading 'Cirdan's Advice for Beard-Braiding'. He was already getting old and the last time he looked into the mirror he would've sworn that he saw a light stubble.

He had also been thinking whether there was still a place free in 'Hildor's Hopping Horses', which did seem like a nice outside activity.

But everything changed when the Twins attacked. Only Elrond, master of Imladris, could stop them, but when Celeborn needed him most, he vanished. Many hours went by and he still hadn't found him.

On top of that: he was now also afraid of coming out of his room. As the director of 'Lothlorien's look' he should always look completely proper; but now, oh NOW, his hair, his usually so fine silver hair had turned a truly awful shade! He could however, finally take legal action against the twin terrors; grandsons or not, his hair had been insured for more than 2000 golden coins. (Galadriel had insisted on the insurance, but now he was glad for his meddlesome wife). His lawyers would make short work of the case.

Happy that he finally had the twins trapped, he tried to open the bathroom door, but it wouldn't budge. Trying again, harder this time, he still did not succeed in opening it. It could not be true! The twins wouldn't dare to, even they would lack the courage to entrap Celeborn the Mighty, Celeborn the Wise, Celeborn the Giver of Great Gifts, etc. etc. About those 'Great Gifts'... He did regret giving the twins a few for their begetting days. Perhaps he shouldn't have given them those 'Play-Elf' magazines? He had no other choice, but to wait until someone, a servant for example, would find out that the door was locked. He could hardly climb out of his window in his naked glory. Could he?

This left him with one option: reading the magazines and books he had left in the bathroom for reading on the toilet. After all, even for elves constipation was a pain in the behind (literally, in Celeborn's case). He sometimes called the bathroom his second, secret library, because there he would find out about many secrets. He was a well-known author in the conspiracy world, although he stayed anonymous, of course. One of his greatest hits had been the article titled: 'Sauron, Evil Maia or Re-incarnated King Thingol?' other hits included 'Lembas: Good Waybread or Mordor's Delight?', 'Eärendil, a Shining Star with a Dark Secret', and 'The Secret Love Life of Feänor, Truly the Father of Seven Sons or Actually Eight?'

He had almost enough evidence to show that the hobbits did plan world-domination and that they would be helped by white ferrets. He had to be very careful though, if they knew that he knew what they planned than they would dispose of him, and ferrets had a nasty bite. Strangely enough, a ferret bite had actually brought him on this track, it seemed that the animal had wanted to warn him not to dig deeper, but he, Celeborn the Mighty, Celeborn the Wise, Celeborn the Giver of Great Gifts, etc. etc. would not turn down, just because a few people tried to murder him!

He heard a strange commotion in the courtyard, but when he looked out of the window, he saw nothing. The only new thing in the courtyard was a strange banner. Something about livers, and he did not even eat that! Suddenly a voice drifted upwards, a voice he would recognize out of thousands.

'GIL-GALAD WAS AN ELVEN-JERK,

IN BATTLE HE ALWAYS WENT BESERK,

HE WAS NEITHER FAIR NOR FUN,

AND NOW THIS SONG IS DONE!'

That could be no other than his friend, could it? Thranduil, party-animal extraordinaire was in da house! No doubt that they were organizing the best party ever downstairs, but they had forgotten to invite him. What a pity, than he should just surprise everyone, shouldn't he? He could set aside his pride to attend a good party, after all, no one would remember what happened afterwards. With a devilish grin and his mind set to a goal, lord Celeborn the Brave, lord Celeborn the Mighty, lord Celeborn the Wise, lord Celeborn the Giver of Great Gifts etc. etc. climbed out of the window in his glorious nudity.

Keeping track of Thranduil's family was mind-numbing work, Erestor thought. Legolas chatted continuously, over the shallowest things. Snuffles only said 'Man, that is deeeep.'

Thranduil would also repeat himself endlessly, and regularly burst out in inappropriate songs about great heroes. An example of a conversation between them went like this:

'So, like, I said to him: 'darling, those shoes with that robe?' Like seriously, his whole style was so second age!'

'Man, that is deeeep.' Snuffles answered.

'O my Valaaaar, I am so deep, I know, right? Like, anyways, this elf just looks at me like I've made this crazy suggestion, but what would he know of fashion right? I mean come on, I am, like, proclaimed to be the Most Sexiest Elf Alive. And I walked in the Mirkwood Fashion Week as the most important model. So I say to him-'

'THRANDUIL IS IN DA HOUSE! WHERE'S THE BOOOZE?'

'Man, that is deeeep.'

'Yeah, I know right? By the way, I saw Glorfindel and I was like: O my Valaaar, he's like, so much faded glory. I am sure he could've been like Cover Model on CosmoGondorian but now he's just plain first age, and come on, using Elrond as a scarf? Been there, done that!'

'Man, that is deeeeep.'

'THINGOL WAS A STUPID FU-'

'SHUT UP! All of you. I am sure that you've all had a long journey and that you'll want to rest for a while.' Erestor massaged his temples. Headaches were rare, but not unheard of among the elves and he felt one coming that would keep him bedridden for the next century.

'I WANNA PARTY!' Thranduil screamed, 'LET'S GO TO THE HALL OF FIRE!'

A true mob of elves followed him, where they had appeared from was a mystery. Erestor could have sworn that they had been alone in the hallway not a minute ago. Suddenly he realised what implications this would have. If Celeborn heard the noises, he would investigate and Valar knows what would happen. He hitched up his robes and sprinted to where he had seen Glorfindel.

A song about Gil-Galad seemed to follow him while he ran through the halls.

* * *

Glorfindel had finally come to the decisions to cut his hair, so that he finally would be free of Elrond. Resolutely he had grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting, until his hair was above his shoulders. Tenderly laying Elrond down, he rose.

Erestor, huffing and puffing and red in the face, came running to him. 'I failed, they- they are on their way to the hall of fire, I couldn't stop them!'

Shocked, Glorfindel grabbed his shoulders and shook him. 'No, NOOO!' dramatically he sunk to his knees, taking Erestor with him. 'And Celeborn? What about him?'

'There at least I have good news to share: he is still in his rooms. I fear to tread this path, but thread it we must. To the hall of fire we have to go, to stop the party from happening and keep the noise down. Come, my friend, together we have been through many perils, and this might become the greatest of them all. Let us stand strong and tall, and let us make sure that no noise shall make it to Celeborn's ears.'

'Your words give me courage, Erestor. So it shall be, us against the rest. Us against the world. The stakes are high and the board is set. Let us go, let us triumph! All shall fall before Glorfindel the Great and Erestor the Librarian.'

Together they walked to the halls, and both hesitated a moment, before opening the doors. The party hit them in full force, and they saw things, terrible things that would haunt their nightmares for ages to come.

The twins were pricking marshmallows on Snuffles' neon-coloured hair spikes. Legolas was posing for the speed-painters while chatting non-stop. 'You want a signature? Here you go darling. OW! You pricked me, watch out with those needles, tailor! How I experienced MFW, it was completely awesome! O my Valaaar! Figwit, I haven't seen you in like, ages! No I don't do nude. Swimwear shoot can be arranged, go talk to my manager please. OW, I told you, tailor. Those needles are sharp… '

Thranduil had found the hidden stash of Dorwinion and was singing and drinking, sometimes at the same time. The elves around him were also drunk and were making some awful noises. (Erestor told him that it was called yodelling).

The Eleven Elves were rocking on the stage, and the elk (how did  _that_  get in here) was standing patiently while other elves braided party-lights in its antlers. Suddenly an outcry echoed across the room. There, completely naked stood Celeborn, looking at Thranduil.

'THRANDUIL, YOU OLD PARTY-ANIMAL!'

'CELEBORN! YOU OLD FEASTBEAST!'

Glorfindel and Erestor looked at each other. It was too late, they had failed. 'Save yourself!'

* * *

 

It was calm and peaceful when Elrond woke up. The sun had just risen above the horizon, and he had not slept so well in ages. Why he had a handful of golden hair in his hands was a mystery.

Then he remembered. Everything. Yet is was so quiet and peaceful, perhaps everything had gone okay-ish?'

He looked outside and saw the most horrible thing: a banner on which stood written 'Liver Smell: the Capstone of Losing no Wretch.'

It would have to be removed. Immediately. He stood up and walked outside. It hung high, but he had finished 'Gil-Galad's Building Climb Parkour' in a record time, so this wouldn't pose a problem.

Why would anyone make a banner about Liver though? It was well known that he hated eating Liver. As a healer, he had figured out that he had probably inherited that from Celeborn, his father-in-law, with genetics and all. Getting the banner down was no problem, and with the banner in one hand he decided to go to the hall of fire, to get an explanation why this horrible piece of food had been written so hugely.

He opened the doors to the halls of fire. A vein on his temple began to throb. His face became red. He opened his mouth 'GLORFINDELLLLLLLLLLLLL!' and then he behaved as Peredhil of his age are wont to do when they are angry; he fainted.

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was it :), a short story, hopefully you all liked it!  
> Please read and review!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked the story and please review :) or leave some kudos!
> 
> Love, Laureiel


End file.
